


Wedding Date Woes

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, College AU, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Modern AU, a lighter thing than i normally write, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16206290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: College AU.Enjolras needs a wedding date. Grantaire is, sadly, the only option.Multi-chapter, not yet complete.





	Wedding Date Woes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a more voicey, modern sort of style that I'm playing around with. If I do go forward with this, It will update once a week until complete. Not sure I'm in love with the story though, so feedback and/or comments are welcome.

The phone buzzes twice, then twice more. No ring tone, which means it's not a member of the ABC.

Bahorel thought it would be amusing to put ringtones for each one of the members, and then for all the… satellite members, as Enjolras has taken to calling the significant others of the group. Courfeyrac called them “Lovers of the ABC” which made Enjolras blush far too much to repeat.

Beside, he really doesn’t want to think about that townie Montparnasse loving on any of the ABC members, least of all innocent, kind, Jehan.

The phone buzzes once more.

It’s a simple text. No emojis, no gifs, nothing _. “Call me.”_

Why must his mother do that? Why couldn’t she simply text him whatever was the matter? Or, if she wished to use voice, couldn’t she have left a voice message? Or, better yet, maybe she could not contact him, except once per month, at a pre-arranged time.

Combeferre passes him a mug. The ceramic cup slides over the smooth counter, somehow not spilling a single drop of the drink inside. Enjolras sips. The bitter brew warms him, as much as he dislikes the taste.

“You didn’t even look at the art!” Courfeyrac cries. “That’s the best part.”

“The best part is the caffeine,” Enjolras replies, bemused. He tries to see whatever the foam might have once been. A leaf? A heart. “A, uh, duck?”

Combeferre bursts out laughing, and Courfeyrac blushes. “It’s a swan.”

“Same family, different genus,” Combeferre says helpfully, ruffling his boyfriend’s ginger curls. The two have such an easy, gentle relationship, their touches steps in dances only they know. “You’re close.”

“You say genus, I say you’re a genius!” Courfeyrac shoots finger guns at Combeferre, before leaning in for what presumably will be a kiss. Enjolras has already looked away, giving his friends some privacy.

The positive side of having a best friend be one of the baristas on campus was free coffee. The downside? Well, when your other best friend is dating said barista, it usually meant your free coffee came with a free sighting of pda. Most of the other member of the ABC society found it amusing. Especially Bahorel, who was delighted to have a distraction from lectures and other topics he deemed boring.

“What’s the matter?” Combeferre noticed that Enjolras was not drinking his latte, merely staring into its murky depths. “Did Courf forget your fifth shot in that?”

“Did not!” Courf cried, washing dishes. “Two double shots, plus one regular. I remembered.”

Really, Enjolras would prefer a slightly differently latte, but this was the one that seemed a bit less embarrassing to order. “The drink is fine. It’s…” he sighs, and if one was being truthful, they might describe the sigh as over-dramatic. “It’s my mother.”

“Is she sick?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Not too sick to text.”

“Call her back!” Combeferre shakes his finger at Enjolras. “Don’t make her worry. Remember that time you _thought_ you’d asked for permission to stay at my place, and she got worried sick thinking you’d run off to join the circus.”

“Does the circus actually hire runaways?” Courf cuts in, while pouring more coffee. “If they had, gosh, I would have liked to know that.”

“It’s an expression.” Enjolras replies dryly. Having been friends since childhood with Combeferre meant that the young man had far too many embarrassing stories about him.  “beside, circuses abuse animals and—”

“What about Cirque du Soleil?” Courf was still focused on the topic. “I mean, they just have acrobats and contortionists and clowns.”

“I thought you were afraid of clowns.”

“No.” Courf replies, but a little too quickly. Heat rises in his cheeks.

Combeferre takes pity on his blushing boyfriend, and diverts the conversation away from clowns. Enjolras would much rather stay on that topic, but can't find any way to bring it back to that literal laughing matter.

“So, you have no idea what your mother wants?”

“Well, I think she wants me to grow up to be a proper heir to the Enjolras family name, becoming mayor, or even senator.” He doesn’t think she wants him to take after his father and go into investment banking, but she’d probably prefer that to his goal of becoming an attorney with a focus in social justice and pro-bono work. She certainly doesn’t need to know the volunteer work he’s already doing.

“Short term, my friend. Short term.”

He sighs again. “I dunno. Probably to guilt me into something.”

It’s easier to talk to Combeferre about his parents than some of the others. He certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing as much with Courfeyrac, whose father only recently started speaking to him again after he came out. And then there’s Marius, with no family to speak of, just a Grandfather with very unfortunate voting habits. (Not that Marius’s own politics were much better, when the Friends of the ABC had met him.)

He pauses a moment. He knows each of the ABC’ member’s parental situation as surely as he knows his own… or so he thought. Now, he realizes he has no idea what Grantaire’s family is like.

Probably disappointed in him, whoever they are.

He tables the thought, as he does any time his mind wanders off in the direction of the scruffy, paint-stained, six-year-senior student. It was incredible and frustrating how his stupid brain had that ability; to magnetically pull his thoughts back in Grantaire's direction, when the man had nothing at all that was deserving of notice. He was loud and lazy and brash; which would be fine, if he could be so elsewhere, but he insisted on spending a great deal of time around the Friends of the ABC. Sometimes he even came to  meetings, ensuring no work actually got done at them.

“I’ll go outside to call her.”

“Tell her hello for me,” Combeferre says. “My mother promised to send her that recipe for lavender scones, so let me know if she hasn’t.”

“Tell her Hi for meee!” Courf chimes in, though he’s never met the woman, and really, that was  a little more enthusiasm than she deserves.

 

It’s not that Felicity Enjolras (Fee, to friends, large campaign donors, and her husband) is a bad person. She’s actually quite reasonable, highly intelligent, socially liberal, although certainly not someone that would get called a “social justice warrior” either respectfully or mockingly.

She does give to charity, although only those that provide proper documentations for her tax returns. She’ll be photographed in front of the groundbreaking new homeless shelter, but she’d never drop a dollar in a cup of someone sleeping rough.

In short, Fee is all too concerns with appearances, and very little with such things as empathy.

It’s something Enjolras himself (first name Felix, certainly not going to use the nickname “Fee” or worse, Fee-squared) worries he might also do. He tries hard, not to be her opposite, but to be her better reflection.

It’s easier to be someone’s opposite, he’s often thought. All one has to do is make the choice on the other side. If one person prefers coffee, why the opposite should like tea. A cat owner? Then their opposite should have dogs.  
Sometimes, it feels like that’s all Grantaire has done, since the day he and Enjolras met, four years ago.

 

Damn it, the topic of thought he’d forbidden came back. This time, he tables it more forcefully. Rather, he boxes it up, ductapes it with considerable mental energy and lobs it somewhere deep in the shadowy corners of his mind, near other confusing topics he doesn’t want to think about.

Unfortunately, he can’t do the same with his mother’s request. So, he calls her, while walking through one of the campus's many parks. It's spring, and the flowers are all blooming, which would be lovely, if they didn't remind him of exams. Not for the first time, he thinks about how he really ought to find a way to relax.   
Maybe he should decrease the espresso. Or increase the sleep. Neither one seems likely though, and by the time he starts thinking of a third option, his mother answers. "Hello Felix!"

"Hi, Mother."

“How are you? Did I text while you were in class?’ Her voice is soft, but lined with steel.

“No, I was with friends.” There. He matches her tone.

“Your little club?”

“It’s not…” he grits his teeth. “Yes.”   
“Aw, how darling.”

The Friends of the ABC were not darling. They were going to change the world. He knew it. Even if his whole family didn’t.

“Why did you ask me to call?”

“Well, your cousin Clara is getting married.”

“I will be sure to send a card.” He can't stand Clara's parents, though she herself isn't too bad. Sweet, smart, a very successful dentist.

“Don’t be silly! I checked your academic calendar. You have a three day weekend. You can come home.”

He grimaces.  She keeps talking. “And of course you know how important it is to bring a date. It doesn’t have to be that dear Combeferre, though he’s certainly a fine pick.”

“Mother!”

“Just bring a date, darling, and don’t embarrass us. That’s all I want.”

She hangs up shortly after. There’s no arguing with her when she’s like this. He’s going to simply have to find a date.  
For a wedding three states away.

And in two weeks.

Featuring far too many members of both his family and well-connected society, for anything to go wrong.

This, Enjolras realizes, is going to be a disaster. 


End file.
